


Bitter

by This_is_your_Heichou_speaking



Series: Cross My Heart [22]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Also Italian endearments, Angst, Harry is some vampire/wizard hybrid, Lovers Fighting, M/M, and making up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 13:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking/pseuds/This_is_your_Heichou_speaking
Summary: Unbetaed.





	Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed.

He is in the library when Felix finds him. The room is huge, more akin to a cathedral's main chamber than a library, except that every wall is covered in thousands and thousands of books. There are novels here from when novels first started to be written, original copies ancient tombs and several books that there's only rumour of outside the walls of Volterra. Harry knows, because he's been through most of them, at first desperate to find answers in some obscure tome, and then just to pass the days without losing his mind.  
  
The vampire sidles up to the shelf atop which he is seated, looking very much like the cat who caught the canary, and waits smugly for Harry to acknowledge him. The younger immortal tries to ignore him, frowning as he attempts in vain to keep his concentration on the words before him, but they prove ultimately drab in comparison to the mystery Felix presents.  
  
So, with a huff, he shuts the cover with more force - especially for such an old book - than necessary and chances a glare down, meeting the vampire's bright red gaze.  
  
Freshly fed, then.  
  
"What?" he snaps, irritated. "Was there something needed?"  
  
"Needed?" Felix laughs, light and airy as if Harry has told a mildly amusing joke, and waves his hand at the irate green eyes staring back down at him. "No dear, but your attitude forces me to ask how it is I've offended you?" he grins, flashing perfect, pointed white teeth in a show of nonchalance, but Harry senses that he's upset the older vampire.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says, then sighs and puts the books down next to him before jumping down to stand next to Felix. Now that they stand on even ground, the difference between their heights is only too obvious, but Harry had spent near enough his entire life as the shortest among his peers, so it doesn't really faze him anymore.  
  
Felix shrugs. "I just thought you'd want to know," he says, then pauses. Harry frowns.  
  
"Know what?" he is forced to ask. Felix grins again, slinging a conspiratorial arm around his small shoulders.  
  
"Aro has visitors," he whispers in his ear. Harry shrugs off the arm, crossing his own in irritation. His face immediately morphs into a sneer at the sound of _his_  name.  
  
"So?" he asks dismissively. "He's always entertaining some guest or another, what makes you think I care now, when I have never cared before?"  
  
"Well, for one, this is a party including a human girl."  
  
Harry sighs hard, raising an eyebrow at Felix as if to tell him to get on with it. "Again, not uncommon."  
  
"Not even if she's a vampire's lover?"  
  
The vampire's tone is very much sly, and loathe though he is to admit it, Harry's interest is peaked. "Surely..." he starts, trailing off. "Surely you can't mean-"  
  
"Oh but I do, dear. A human girl and her vampire lover, here in the middle of Volterra whilst the three lords of the Volturi hold court." He pauses, and then admits, "that isn't even the best part."  
  
"Oh?" Harry tries to keep his voice from wavering, but he doesn't think that he manages to keep it steady to the fine ears of vampire. If Felix notices, however, he does not mention it.  
  
"The vampire in question," he murmurs, "is _the telepath_."  
  
Harry's breath stutters on the way into his lungs, and his eyes widen. "Oh," he says. That was significant. That was _really_  significant. Aro had wanted the Cullen vampires for his little collection for longer than Harry had been alive, he'd never pass up the chance to play with them now. "Oh dear," he whispers, then looks at Felix, who nods.  
  
"Exactly," he replies, smiling much too widely, and Harry feels a pang of pity for the pair he has never even met. Stupid as they are to have come here in the first place, Harry would never wish Aro and his devices on anyone, though he would be the first to admit his clear bias.  
  
Without another word, Harry strides out of the room and down to the large chamber Aro fancies as his throne room. He doesn't run, but nevertheless he may as well have for his incredible speed. Upon entering the room, he finds the three vampire lords on their appointed thrones, and three unfamiliar faces. One he immediately recognises as human from the flushed skin and frightened brown eyes, and he imagines that the one standing by her side is her foolish lover. Behind them stands another female who, from the amber of her eyes, he supposes to be another Cullen - though he does not know enough about them to hazard a guess as to which one.  
  
Aro has a smooth, friendly smile on his face when Harry first enters, fooling absolutely nobody but, perhaps, the human girl who would be unfamiliar with him and his ways, but it falls as soon as the old vampire sets eyes on him.  
  
"Harry," he says, his surprise more obvious than he should have let it be. Harry doesn't reply or even look over, acting as if Aro is not even there. Marcus frowns, Harry knows this even without looking, but all eyes in the room fall upon the girl at the sound of her loud gasp.  
  
"Bella," the telepath murmurs chidingly, but both his and his sister's eyes are intent upon Harry, and he knows exactly why. Vampires do not have green eyes and a beating heart, nor do they breathe like their living counterparts. And yet, Harry's unnaturally pale complexion, speed and stillness do not allow him to fall into the category of human either. He is something distinctly _other_  - something he is loathe to be, and still resents Aro for turning him into after so many years.  
  
Speaking of the devil, the vampire coughs politely, and eyes swing back to him almost as if their gazes had been pulled. "Ah, yes," he says smoothly. "This is Harry, my... dearest."  
  
He waits expectantly, but Harry merely sneers and turns away. "Don't mind me," he says dismissively, refusing to make eye contact with the one who would call him beloved.  
  
There is a brief, cold silence, and then Aro laughs benignly. "Yes," he says, smiling once again at Bella and her beau. "Don't mind him. He'll not have anything to say to _you_." The emphasis on the last word is subtle, but nevertheless understood. To the three foreigners, it is an insult, but to Harry? It is a warning, and despite wanting nothing more than to irritate the vampire, Harry desists, and heeds it.  
  
Because Aro knows how to _hurt_  Harry, and he would rather avoid it if he could. And he's not thinking about Jane either, who's gift would make the strongest men tremble, though it still fails on him. No, Aro would never cause him pain in that sense, he fancies himself too noble, and knows how to hurt him through his words, how to strike right at the heart regardless - he has seen all there is to see in his mind, after all. And he truly hates to do it, Harry knows that too, but if he's been angered enough, well...  
  
He turns away, and closes his mouth in a firm scowl.  
  
The proceedings go quickly. Harry knows what to expect before the words even leave Aro's mouth, but he is surprised at the devastation on the male's - Edward's - face. And yet, when he thinks on it some more, why not? After all, Harry had never wanted to be turned, had never asked for the bite that had been bestowed upon him despite it all, so is it so surprising that a vampire - one who refuses human blood, even - would be against turning his lover? Harry had thought only of the fate of living eternity without the one you love, but he wouldn't be surprised to find that Edward holds some sort of hatred for his own kind.  
  
It doesn't matter in any case - it has been settled. The Cullens will do as Aro asks or risk losing their lives and their hard-won peace, and Harry knows well enough now that Aro does not make idle threats.  
  
He stands and watches, expressionless, as they leave. There are few lingering looks, but the two vampires do spare him a curious glance each. He supposes he cannot blame them for their curiosity, but that doesn't not mean he can't hate Aro for turning him into the circus freak he apparently now is. He turns, silent and mostly unseen for the shadows that cloak him, but Aro already has his eyes on Harry, and calls him closer before he can leave, or get far enough to at the very least pretend deafness.  
  
He debates for a moment to run any way - what would the vampire do, after all? Harry walked away from him all the time, and the vampire seldom did more than scold him. But there is an edge to his voice that, try as he might to deny it, worries Harry, and so he stops where he is.  
  
Aro gets up from his seat and moves a few steps towards where he stands, utterly still. "Walk with me," he says in a low voice, as if the rest of his host could not hear regardless. Harry does not answer, but nods and allows himself to take the proffered arm.  
They begin a relatively swift stride that leads them out of the vast, ancient castle and into the lush gardens that surround the property, where Aro then slows down.  
  
"Harry," he says, his voice almost gentle, and Harry's muscles tighten almost instantly at the sound of it. He hears Aro sigh, but the vampire carries on regardless.  
  
"Beloved," he says, "I would have you tell me why you came to visit me today, at exactly that time."  
  
It is not a question, in the regard that Aro knows exactly why Harry was there. That is not what he is asking. After a while, Harry tells him anyway. "I heard rumours," he says softly. "I was curious." He pauses a second, and then, "is there some reason I _shouldn't_  have been there?"  
  
Aro is silent, and Harry can feel his deep, crimson gaze fixed so heavily upon his face, but he doesn't look away from the intricately carved fountain near which they stand.  
  
"No," he says eventually. "No reason." He turns so that he faces Harry, and raises the hand that is free of his grip to the younger vampire's face. Before he touches even a hair, Harry let's go of him and jerks away, green eyes wide with anger and anxiety.  
  
"I've told you not to touch!" he exclaims, raising a hand to his cheek as if Aro had slapped him, and not merely failed to brush his fingers along his cheek.  
  
"I am able to control myself," the elder replies coldly, advancing a step.  
  
Harry laughs bitterly as he backs away even further. "You are," he says, his tone accusing. "But that does not mean you _will_. You never have before."  
  
The not-so-subtle jab brings Aro up short, and immediately his face morphs into one of sadness. "Harry," he whispers. " _Amore mio_ , how long will you punish me like this?"  
  
Harry shakes his head, wrapping his arms around himself. "For as long as you've cursed me," he answers, tone flat. "Which is to say, forever."  
  
"This was never meant to be a punishment-" Aro starts, but Harry turns on him, eyes narrowed and suspiciously shiny.  
  
"It was against my _will_ , Aro. I never agreed to this, you forced it on me and _now_  look. I'm yet again a freak of nature-"  
  
He breaks off when Aro straightens his back at those words, bringing himself up to his full height until he is glaring down at Harry with blood red eyes that remind Harry, for just one split-second, of Voldemort. He blinks, and still Aro stares down at him. "You are a _gift_ , Harry!" he exclaims angrily. "Look at you! There is nothing on this earth, or even the entirety of this universe that is anything like you, don't you understand? You are _precious_. Why," he continues, his eyes softening as he stared at Harry. "Look at your _eyes_. They are so beautiful, so perfect that I think not even Mother Nature wanted to destroy them, and how could she? They are jewels in their own right."  
  
"Perhaps," Harry replies with a sardonic laugh, "I should just gouge them out myself then. Do you think if I did, that Mother Nature would finally just let me be?"  
  
Aro twitches then sighs, reaching out and yet still not touching. "You don't mean that," he murmurs gently.  
  
Harry laughs again, harsher. "Don't I?" he challenges, and yet he knows he doesn't. Aro is right, of course he is.  
  
The older vampire doesn't answer, but draws ever nearer, arms out as if he would embrace Harry. " _Caro_ ," he whispers, voice low. "Please, this has surely gone on for long enough?"  
  
Harry's heart stutters at the utter desperation in that tone, and he stills, staring wide-eyed at the other vampire. He has never seen Aro like this, has never seen him so open and _raw_ , and despite his best attempts to feign indifference he fails, ever a slave to the quickening of his heart. And yet...  
  
And yet, he has never been so pathetic as that either. He turns his gaze away, and Aro sighs harshly, pushing his hands into his hair in an oddly human gesture of frustration. It is surprising, because Harry has imagined that the vampire has trained all these little things out of himself by now, over his millennia of life, but he has no mind to dwell on it when Aro turns to him again.  
  
"What would you have me do, Harry?" he asks, a growl in his voice. Harry smiles sadly.  
  
"Why, Aro, what would anyone be expected to do for wronging someone?"  
  
Aro stills, and a slow, angry smile spreads over his face. "Of course," he murmurs, "of course. I-" he breaks off, and then suddenly kneels.  
  
When he attempts to touch Harry's skin this time, the younger vampire lets him, and Aro takes his hands in his own. He is hesitant to do so, remembering a time when Aro's touch had been as good as permission for his magic, which protected him from most other abilities, to have open access to every memory he holds. When Aro had not told him what he could do, and read every secret Harry had ever kept like it was his _right_.  
  
But he doesn't feel the vague sensation of sucking at his brain this time, and he knows Aro is holding back purposefully. Perhaps his words have cut deeper than he has imagined if this vampire, who famously only cares for himself, curbs his curiosity and need for knowledge for Harry's sake.  
  
Aro looks him right in the eyes and he seems a like he's at a bit of a loss, but even so he drops a soft kiss on Harry's small hands and says "I am so, so sorry."  
  
Harry doesn't know what to do for a while, shocked as he is. He knows what he has said and done has fully implied that this - an apology - was what he wanted, but even so he has never dared imagine-  
  
Because, before all else, Aro is _proud_. Proud, and not arrogant, for he has every reason to bask in his achievements and power over others. He has _worked_  for it, earned it, and yet here he is - kneeling before Harry and asking his forgiveness, _admitting_  he's done wrong and-  
  
And Harry feels so many things, he thinks he could explode with it all. He feels smug, a little, but more than that he feels _stupid_  for having held on to this for so long. For having worn Aro down to a man on his knees. It is testament, he thinks, to not only his regret but also his love that he is willing to lower himself before Harry. But a part of him knows that he could not have felt secure in this, had the vampire not truly apologised for what he has done to Harry, and now that they're here he feels, most strongly of all, relief.  
  
He curls his fingers around the hands that hold his and pulls faintly on them, prompting Aro to rise once again. He looks as beautiful and strong as ever, his hair combed neatly down his back and his head just as high, but the glimmer of hope in his eyes tell Harry all he wants to know.  
  
"I forgive you," he whispers, and now that he lets himself he admits that Aro's eyes are nothing like Voldemort's, if only because of the way they soften and darken to a delicious shade when they rest upon his form.  
  
"My dearest," Aro says, but it is so soft that Harry reads his lips more than he hears the words. Even so he feels like he wants to cry, and yet he is also strangely happy. Because while he has resented Aro for turning him despite his refusal, for reading him without permission, the reason it hurt so much was that he'd trusted the vampire with himself in the most intimate way he could, and Aro had just continued on as he would without a care that his actions would break that trust.  
  
The reason he has never been able to leave was that, despite his anger and hurt and resentment, Harry had _loved_  Aro, and believed truly that Aro did so in turn, only to be presented with the proof of his folly by fire through his veins and secret words on bloody lips. And the worst thing? The most difficult thing by far had been to admit to himself that he _still_  loved him.  
  
Aro slips a hand around his waist, still grasping one of Harry's hands with the other as soft music begins to play indoors. It is time for a feeding, and yet Aro has never seemed more uninterested in blood. Instead he begins to sway, resting his head against Harry's, and whispers, "dance with me, _cuore mio_. It has been too long."  
  
Harry hums, a smile stretching across his face before he can stop it, and he closes his eyes in contentment as he too begins to sway along. "But Aro," he replies teasingly, feeling for the first time in a long time like he is young again, happy as he was the first time in the arms of love. "As sweet as that sounds, your heart doesn't beat."  
  
Aro laughs, the sound deliciously dark and honeyed and low. "Ah, dearest," he says. "My heart does indeed not beat, but despite that it feels as strongly as any mortal's, perhaps even stronger. And I can promise you," he adds, twirling Harry around and then back effortlessly, "that my love for you will endure like nothing else."  
  
"Such sweet words," Harry laughs. "I must wonder how many innocent maidens and young men you've seduced with these very words, whether for lust of their blood or their flesh."  
  
"I cannot deny that," Aro says, and then suddenly pulls Harry in close until they are chest to chest. "But how could my eyes possibly stray from one such as you?"  
  
And loathe though he is to admit it, Harry cannot help but feel pleased at the praise. It shows, he knows, because unlike a vampire his heart still beats, and his blood flushes the skin of his cheeks regardless of his wishes. Aro leans down slowly, eyes intent on Harry's lips, and for a minute Harry lets him draw nearer and nearer, until, just before they touch, he spins outward again.  
  
"You play with me!" Aro exclaims, but he too is laughing as he picks Harry up and swings him around, his arms and hands strong and safe around the younger immortal.  
  
"Aro!" Harry cries, and though he does not know it his eyes are sparkling like they haven't since he was but a child, and his lips are spread wide in a happy smile. In a second, Aro's face changes from joyful to wanting, and his pulls Harry in so fast that the wizard can only blink before they are kissing, lips moving against each other and bodies moulded tightly together. Aro wraps both of his arms around Harry's waist, his hands on Harry's back, and Harry in turn has his hands buried in the long black locks of his hair, clutching tightly as he pulls Aro closer into himself.  
  
They kiss until Harry becomes dizzy with the lack of oxygen, and even then Aro needs only to take a glance at swollen wet lips before he once again swoops down and takes his lover's mouth. Harry's lips part for him, and he tastes his beloved deeply and passionately as he hasn't done in years, the desire heating his blood at the absolutely glorious sensation of the lithe body so tight against his.  
  
"Harry," he murmurs when they finally part, his voice gruff. The wizard in question still has his eyes closed, a soft smile on red lips, but he does not answer. Instead, he lays his head down onto Aro's chest, and whispers into the cloth there, "take me to bed, Aro."  
  
And Aro, unwilling to deny such a sweet request, picks him up off his feet and takes him to the chambers highest up, where he knows they will not be disturbed, nor heard.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Amore mio_ \- My love  
>  _Caro_ \- Dear  
>  _Cuore mio_ \- My heart


End file.
